


Undoing The Winchesters

by TwoBoys2Love



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, M/M, Superhero Dean Winchester, Superhero Sam Winchester, Violence, death of villain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 08:33:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19128382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoBoys2Love/pseuds/TwoBoys2Love
Summary: Sam and Dean have special abilities that make them super hero like hunters of the Supernatural. When a fake “trading card” about them falls into the hands of an old enemy, things get interesting.





	Undoing The Winchesters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amberdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberdreams/gifts).



> Amber dreams has done some amazing artwork for this story !!! I’m on the road and desperately trying to link to her art post!
> 
>  
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/19117117
> 
> Thanks for being so patient with me AmberDreams!!!!
> 
> [Here is the Amazing art post](https://amberdreams.livejournal.com/614954.html)

The huge iron door clanged shut and Dean's boots clunked on the stairs as he jogged down them. He leaped off the bottom step and flashed a mischievous grin at his brother.

Sam winced. He hated that grin as much as he loved it. For someone who was covered in something that resembled engine grease, Dean looked entirely too happy. He had no doubt received the same text from Bobby – or _eye in the sky_ – that there was a potential hunt for them. 

"Sammy, put your cape on," Dean said as he stopped at the table and knocked his knuckles against it. He slipped his leather jacket off, slung it on the table and rubbed his face against the shoulder of his t-shirt.

Dropping his book to the table, Sam frowned and only _just_ managed to keep from rolling his eyes. "Fuck off."

The whole _superhero_ schtick was getting old. Of course, it was _the best thing ever_ as far as Dean was concerned. Dean loved it. He had always loved that their Hunter abilities ran in their family, even _before_ it was trendy and cool to be a hunter. That was probably why Dean was covered in grease: he'd been out in the huge garage building incomprehensible things that would make their jobs easier. Yeah, because _that_ was Dean's _superpower_. He could fix things, work out problems, puzzles, and build anything. Dean loved being a hunter and his infallible ability to work out the most intricate solutions to things made him _great_ at it.

Dean also loved any excuse for them to get _suited up_ in their gear.

It was a little over the top as far as Sam was concerned. Most of the mods to their outfits were a way to enhance their skills. Dean's though? He didn't _need_ the skin-tight, black t-shirt and as hot as the thigh holster was, yeah, that wasn't strictly necessary either. It wasn't even particularly useful if the past was any indication. It was showy and Sam hated it. 

Sam also hated that he loved how it looked.

"C'mon, Sam." Dean leaned down until his lips brushed his brother's ear. "You _love_ takin' those pants _off_ me. You gotta earn it with a hunt."

Heat sizzled down Sam's neck and settled in his cock. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought about how much easier life would be without the ricochet effect of his abilities. Easier in that Dean wouldn't be able to torment him quite so easily.

Dean's finger brushed the heat that has seeped onto Sam's cheeks. "Look at you."

Sam shrugged off his brother's touch and slid his chair back. He stood and pulled himself up straight to make the most of the few inches he had over his brother. " _You_ are gonna pay for that later."

But all Dean did was flash Sam a dark smile. "Oh, I'm countin' on it."

They were still squared off when Bobby ambled into the Library. He did a double-take then lifted an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

Sam stepped back slightly. Sure, everyone knew that the and Dean were close… but no one knew exactly _how_ close. Bobby, of all people, would never forgive them. He'd tried so hard to give them a normal life after they'd lost their parents and there was nothing remotely normal about sleeping with your brother.

Bobby's presence did little to dampen Dean's enthusiasm for the upcoming hunt _or_ for what Sam was planning to do to him later. Sam could feel it.

It was like that… Sam's senses were _enhanced_. He'd been born different… just like his brother. He could see things other people couldn't, like the way Dean's pupils were darkening as he sat at the end of the table. He could read other people's' feelings, their instincts. Combined with what Sam called _future flashes_ , he had learned how to predict what people were going to do with _eerie_ accuracy.

So, he could _feel_ Dean's desire like tendrils creeping into the space between his own thoughts. It had always been easier with Dean because they were brothers, possibly because there were lovers, and _maybe_ just because they were closer than was humanly possible. But then the Winchesters had always been pretty leveled up as far as humans went.

Dean's feelings were like ripples in a pond. They lapped at Sam after Dean walked into a room, the crest of an invisible wave that would, eventually, encompass Sam.

Reading monsters? Reading people who were trying to shut Sam out? That was a whole other beast. Sam could probe into people's consciousness a little, nothing explicit, but when he tried it with anyone _other_ than his brother it was draining. It was like being sucker punched and having the flu at the same time and usually knocked Sam on his ass.

"I have bad news," Bobby said as he sank down into one of the chairs.

"Awesome." Dean flicked a pointed _you-and-me-later_ glance at Sam then hopped up to sit on the table.

"There are six other chairs here, Dean." Sam couldn’t help himself from nudging Dean back towards brotherly banter. It was safer territory when Bobby was around.

"What's wrong, Sammy? Am I offending your delicate sensibilities?"

"There's nothing delicate about me," Sam muttered as he dropped back down into his chair.

"Boys," Bobby growled impatiently.

After a wink in Sam's direction, Dean turned to Bobby. "What's up?"

"It's Magnus."

"There's not a hunt?" Dean said sadly. "You said there was a hunt."

"I'll get to that in a minute," Bobby snapped.

Sam sighed. Magnus or Cuthbert Sinclair had nearly killed Dean once and there was no way Sam wanted to two of them together again in the same space again. Oh yeah, they _thought_ Dean had killed him with the _first blade_ of Cain but he'd popped up again and again like a bad fucking penny. So far, he hadn't managed to get close enough to the Winchester's to cause any damage, but Sam wasn't anxious to test the asshole's resolve.

"What's happened?" Sam asked because Dean wouldn't.

"You remember those _hunter world cards_ that D.J. was makin'?"

"The ones we told him not to make?" Dean growled.

"Yeah." Bobby nodded. "He made 'em. And the idjit had them on his laptop when he was in town having a coffee. Look, I don't understand all this garbage, but Felicia says it was Magnus who hacked the laptop."

"Whoa, wait… what?" Sam could already feel the prickling tension emanating from his brother.

Bobby lifted his cap to scratch his head then dropped it back down. He sank into a chair, looking a little tired as he leaned back. "Felicia checked the laptop when D.J. slunk back in here. I don't know all the technical gobble-de-gook but, turns out Magnus hacked into the laptop. Felicia said there are ways to tell… like coding signatures. Anyway, he took two cards: yours."

"I'm gonna kill D.J.," Dean said. There was a muscle twitching in his jaw, and he was avoiding looking at Sam.

"What's so bad about these… graphics?" Sam asked. He remembered Dean muttering about it but hadn't seen anything himself.

"Well," Bobby continued. "It basically lists your abilities, and we've never put that out there. Takes the element of surprise out of it." 

"And," Dean growled. "He listed us as each others' weakness. Like it's some kind of superhero trading card. He showed 'em to me once and I told him I would kill him if he didn't delete them."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and tried to ignore the irritation that was seeping into him from Dean. "Well, Dean, maybe if you didn't prance around here dressed like one of the X-men D.J. wouldn't do shit like this."

"Oh, so this is _my_ fault? That guy is unprofessional and a waste of-"

"Boys!" Bobby's voice echoed around the library.

For a moment, Dean just scowled at Sam, then he turned back to Bobby. "So, the case? What's that got to do with Magnus?"

"Well, we don't know if it _does_ have anything to do with Magnus. Thing is, he is obviously in the area. He… or someone who works for him had to be in the vicinity of that laptop. And, conveniently we have a monster problem in the next town over."

"Put someone else on it," Sam said. He didn't want Dean anywhere near a case that might involve Magnus.

Dean stiffened and turned his gaze back to Sam. "We don't _know_ if it has anything to do with Magnus, Sam. Relax."

"It's not worth the risk, Dean."

Sam wouldn't be put off though. "He controlled your mind once before, Dean. _That_ is more than enough of a reason to pass this to another hunter."

"Oh, come on," Dean said. "That was a spell and you know a fuck of a lot more about spells and incantations than you did back then, Sam. Besides, you'd be able to sense if he was even around."

Shaking his head, Sam eyes his brother warily. "I don't _know_ that, Dean. You know it's a bit hit or miss with people who are resistant and he's fucking resistant."

There was no way that Sam wanted to put his brother anywhere _close_ to Magnus. It wasn't worth the risk of losing Dean. The incantation Magnus had used would be stronger each time he used it on Dean… there had been enough lore in the bunker books for Sam to figure that out. 

No; it wasn't worth the risk.

"Fuck, Sam. It will be an in and out thing… right? Bobby?" Dean turned back to the older man and smiled.

Bobby pursed his lips for a moment then scratched at his beard. "So, here's the thing. Probably not so straight forward because I'll be fucked if I can figure out how this monster killed sixty people just by walkin' past 'em."

Leaning forward, Sam rested his clenched fists on the table. "Come again?"

Bobby gestured towards Sam's ever-present MacBook. "Felicia sent ya the video. It showed up online about half an hour after the phone was taken into evidence. Videos are still poppin’ up.”

It wasn't surprising. Sam had met a lot of cops who made a few bucks on the side by releasing information that wasn't supposed to see the light of day. He clicked on his email and found the latest one from Felicia.

Dean hopped down off the table and moved to Sam's side.

The heavy warmth of Dean's hand on Sam's shoulder did little to calm the buzz of Sam's nerves. He clicked on the video.

It was a quad, looked like something at the Community college in the next town over. It was… it was Midland Community College. The grass was already green and there were three guys tossing a football back and forth. A young man, maybe twenty, dressed in a hoodie and cargo shorts snatched the ball out of the air then paused. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, then said something Sam couldn't make out. Whoever was holding the phone panned it to the left and zoomed in. For a few moments, everything was shaky, and Sam thought that the person holding the phone must have stood up.

Then things got _weird_.

There were people stopped in their tracks, staring and it took several agonizing moments for the camera to find what everyone was looking at.

There was a figure, he was wearing dark clothes, no he was dirty, lurching through the crowd. His gait was uneven but determined and in his wake, people were screaming and collapsing to the ground.

" _What_ the _fuck_?" Dean's voice was so close to Sam's ear that he felt the heat of his brother's breath.

"Yeah," Bobby said.

Narrowing his gaze, Sam tried to block out the nervous energy that was radiating from Dean. On the screen the view traveled, following the _creature_ , taking in all the bodies that were crumpling to the ground.

"They're all dead?" Sam asked.

"Sixty," Bobby answered.

"And the monster?" Dean asked.

Bobby sighed. "Eventually, he walks up on the fella with the camera. For obvious reasons, that's the last view of him. Cops said he just walked off."

As Bobby finished speaking, the creature began moving directly at the camera.

Sam felt the subtle recoil of Dean's revulsion at the same time as his own stomach turned. The _man_ , because at some point he'd certainly been one, was grotesque. His skin was yellowed, like sun-scorched leather and he was so gaunt all his bones protruded. His eyes were bloodshot, almost black, and bulged out of his skull. As he moved forward, his body jerked like a marionette, his limbs swaying and swinging unnaturally.

He bared his brown teeth, buried in shrunken gums as he approached the camera. A shadow moved over the camera and the image tumbled until the screen was just a close up of the grass.

There was a strange sound coming from the small computer speakers.

"What the _fuck_ is that?" Dean said as leaned back slightly.

"Yeah," Bobby said. "He ate parts of them."

Dean stood up straight and stared over at Bobby. "Ghoul?"

Bobby shook his head. "Doesn't look like any Ghoul I've ever seen."

"Vampire?"

"In daylight?"

"He's eating them, Bobby." Dean's frustration tickled at the edges of Sam's awareness like the buzz of an insect.

Sam scrolled back to an earlier point in the video. "They're dropping when he walks _past_ them, Dean. Yeah, he's chewing on some of them, well, parts of them. But… they look dead before he touches them."

"Well, that doesn't fuckin' make sense," Dean muttered. He turned and dragged a chair over so he could continue watching the video at Sam's side. "Is this an _actual_ Zombie?"

A burst of excited pinpricks at Sam's back made him shiver. There were times when he wished he could turn off the way he sensed Dean's emotions, like when he was thrilled about the possibility of an undead creature. "There's no such thing as zombies, Dean. You can't wish them into existence."

Ignoring his brother, Dean leaned closer to the screen. "Looks to me like this guy was buried at some point. That's dirt all over him."

"Then that's where ya better start researchin'." Bobby patted the table twice then stood. "Unless you're not takin' this hunt."

When Sam opened his mouth to speak, Dean grabbed his shoulder and squeezed _hard_.

"Oh, we're _taking_ it," Dean said quickly.

Sam knew there wasn't much point in arguing when Dean got stubborn about a case. That didn't mean that Sam wouldn’t make his brother pay for it later though.

-=-=-=-

By one in the morning, Dean was begging Sam to let him come. _That_ was how Sam got back at his brother for all the bossy posturing during the day. Because behind closed doors? Dean would do exactly what Sam asked him to. Sometimes, he'd try to get his way, and there were even times when Sam would let him have it.

But Dean Winchester wasn't going to get his way that night.

After hours of watching case footage as it appeared online, Sam had just wanted a couple of fingers of good whiskey and Dean laid out on his bed.

He got both.

The first thing Sam had done was to get Dean out of his clothes. He kept his own jeans on. He could feel that Dean liked it that way. Hell, Dean _loved_ the imbalance, being the one who was vulnerable and exposed. His thoughts skittered around Sam's, intensifying _everything_.

It was all _want, need, Sam, fuck, pleasepleaseplease_ even though there was still a defiant glint in his eyes.

It gave Sam a little satisfaction to know that Dean was weak when it came to _them._

Sam had spent almost an hour trailing his fingers, his hands and his lips over Dean's body. He lingered too long on the spots that made pleasure pour out of Dean in throbbing waves. Sam's mouth had dragged along Dean's collarbone, tormented his brother's nipples, his teeth had pinched at the sensitive flesh just below Dean's abs.

He could feel what Dean felt, what he wanted and that made it easier to postpone giving it to him. Sam loved to leave Dean hanging on the edge of release.

Sam swung a leg over Dean's body and settled back on firm thighs. "Not yet."

"Fuck!" Dean's desire was a hot brand on his cheeks, his swollen lips were parted as he panted. There had been at least half an hour of kissing to accomplish that debauched look.

Sam leaned forward so he could curl his hands around his brother's throat. He tightened his grip until he felt Dean’s swollen girth twitch against his thigh, then he slowly began to trail his nails down Dean's chest.

Dean arched his back up off the bed and tightened his grip on the bars of the headboard. Sam would never have to restrain Dean in any way… he just had to _tell_ him.

His nails flicked over Dean's nipples and another wave of _pleasure_ slammed against Sam's mind. _God_ , he loved Dean.

Nails leaving red tracks on Dean's torso, Sam bit down on his cheek and swallowed hard as Dean's hips bucked up again.

"'Nuff, Sam," Dean growled out even as _moremoremore_ slid into Sam's mind.

A smile tugged at Sam's lips as he let himself fall forward to land at his brother's side. He swept his fingers down the length of Dean's cock then over his swollen balls. "What you want, Dean?"

Immediately, Sam almost lost himself in the fog of _Dean_ that enveloped him. He could feel _exactly_ what Dean wanted.

Sam nestled closer and sucked at a patch of skin just under Dean's jaw. "Anything you want."

-=-=-=-

When Sam woke, he was in his own bed and found himself wishing for their own place. It wasn't that he'd ever pictured himself as a picket-fence kind of guy, but he would love a place private enough for him and Dean to be themselves.

He wanted to be able to press his fingers to the small of Dean's back when he stood to stare off in the distance. Sometimes, he wanted to be able to hook his finger into Dean's belt loop and close the distance between them for no reason at all. None of that was possible when they lived in a bunker with varying amounts of visitors. Because the thing that tied them together their whole lives, their brotherhood, the love, the _draw_ between them… no one would understand that.

Sam's bedroom door shot open with enough force that it banged into the wall with a crack. Sam sat bolt upright in bed, snatching a book off the nightstand and hurling it at the door.

Dean ducked his head to the side and the book flew so close to his ear that a tuft of his hair flipped up in the wake. After a brief frown, he smirked. "Did you just throw a book at me?"

"You're lucky I didn't have a knife by my bed," Sam said. His heart was pounding and the amusement on Dean's face was annoying… Dean's _face_ was annoying. 

"Apparently, I'm fast enough that I don't need luck." Dean leaned against the door frame and cross his ankles. "Was that softcore fiction or hard-hitting non-fiction?"

"What the fuck do you want?" It was too early for Sam to have to deal with cocky.

Dean seemed to remember why he was at Sam's door and he slipped back into professional mode. "I figured part of it out. That fucker killed people with his shadow."

Now _that_ was a new one. "What?"

For a brief moment, Dean's eyes moved appreciatively down and took in Sam's bare chest. He wetted his lips then met his brother's gaze again. "Get dressed. And leave the books here. No need for weapons."

If there was another book within reach, Sam would have thrown that too. Except, really, when he could feel the twist of want in Dean's belly _just_ because he'd looked at Sam, it was hard to hold a grudge. Hard, but not impossible. "Fuck off."

"You're _not_ a morning person anymore, Sammy. You've changed. It's like I don't even know you."

Before Sam could swear again, Dean was gone, leaving a cloud of amusement, desire and _my brother_ in his wake.

Sam smiled grudgingly.

-=-=-=-

As soon as Dean pointed out the shadows in the video, Sam's conclusion was the same as his brother's: touching the creature's shadow meant instant death.

By the time Bobby stopped by the library to see if they'd made progress, Sam was on his fourth book of lore.

Dean was on the laptop. He would occasionally call out the name of a creature and Sam would try to pinpoint similarities to their _creepy fucker_ … Dean's term, not Sam's.

Nothing was sticking and Sam could feel his brother's frustration nipping at him. Sometimes, Dean was so _loud_ that Sam couldn't possibly shut him out even if he wanted to. "Dean? Why don't you go for a walk?"

A momentary flash of Dean's annoyance was replaced quickly by a vague sense of guilt. Dean hated to think that he wore on Sam. "Sorry," he muttered. "You want a coffee?"

"Sure." Sam smiled. It was the smile he kept solely for his brother, the one that was so easy it took no effort at all.

Dean returned the smile before sliding his chair back and standing. He stretched and a slice of smooth, pale skin appeared at his waist.

Sam stared at it then realized Dean was holding the pose longer than was strictly necessary for a stretch. He shook his head and reached for another book.

Dean's fingers brushed Sam's shoulder as he headed past him to the kitchen.

The book Sam grabbed probably weighed five pounds. _Proto-Germanic Mythology_. Nice, light reading, literally and figuratively. He plowed through the background chapters until he found the section that listed beings. 

_Elves_ : definitely not. 

_Kobold_ : no… too Harry Potter. 

_Alp_ : As far as Sam had seen in the videos that had surfaced of the attack, there were no succubus-like activities. 

_Holda_ : She seemed more like a benevolent Goddess than a killer.

The words began to run together eventually, and Sam rubbed at his eyes. He pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyelids to help with the dull ache that was building.

Familiar footfalls and the smell of freshly brewed coffee made Sam smile slightly. Something clunked onto the table in front of Sam and he opened his eyes to find coffee, no doubt prepared the way he liked it; too much cream and two sugars. "Thanks."

"Any luck?"

Sam shook his head. "After all this time, how is it possible that there are still monsters we haven't seen before?"

"Luck." Dean settled back in his chair with his own mug of coffee.

Sam flipped a page in the book. 

_Nachzehrer_ : A German vampire. 

Sam read on. Created after death – check. Not communicable – not so far so check. Devours family members upon waking – nasty but check because he ate _bits_ of his victims. Death by shadow. Sam sat up straighter. "Dean."

Up out of his chair instantly, Dean stood at his brother's shoulder. "What you got?"

"A Nachzehrer," Sam said. "It's German." He pressed his finger to the page in front of him.

"Nachzehrer has the power to bring death by causing its shadow to fall upon someone," Dean read aloud. "Shit."

Sam skimmed ahead. "It says here that they're created after a suicide or some sort of mass death."

"Like a plague?"

"Sure, but not likely in Kansas. Maybe a mass accident?" Sam shrugged as he continued to read. "Great. They're killed differently depending on how they're created."

"That's stupid," Dean muttered. He stepped back then settled in the chair next to his brother. "Details?"

"So, if it was created when the guy killed himself then a silver blade in the heart will kill it."

"And, if it died of the plague?"

"Then we have to decapitate it."

Dean nodded once. "We can manage either of those. And what wonderful fuckin' thing happens if we do the wrong thing?"

Of course, that would be bad. Sam frowned and shook his head. "If we pick the wrong thing, it becomes even more powerful instantly and I'm gonna go with that being _really_ bad."

Dean sighed, because, yeah, there were a lot of stupid rules when it came to supernatural creatures. There were times when it seemed like a bad joke. "How the hell do we figure out how the damn thing died?"

Sam already figured there was one way to figure out the manner of the man's death but he _definitely_ wasn't looking forward to it. He kept reading for a few more paragraphs. "I can… try and read it."

There were a few moments of silence, then Dean cleared his throat. "Sam, I don't think. I don't want you doin' that. It takes too much out of you and then you'll be a sittin' duck out there."

"We don't have a hell of a lot of options," Sam murmured. Dean was right, reading something like this Nachzehrer would be taxing; hell, it would probably wipe Sam out. But there didn't seem to be any more information on how to figure out the way the things died. It wasn't like they had time to scour graveyards for a tombstone. If Magnus really was behind the creature's creation, then he wouldn't have left a trail of evidence.

"We'll keep looking. See if we can figure out what happened to the guy. Either way, it's not gonna just stand there while we try and figure that out." The furrows in Dean's forehead deepened.

Sam frowned. He knew that Dean would have more to say on the matter later. Dean was always overprotective when it came to his _little_ brother. 

He tried to read more. He skimmed a few paragraphs before he found his answer. "Coin."

"What?"

"If you put a coin in its mouth, that paralyzes it temporarily."

"What kind of coin and how temporary is temporary?"

"Doesn't say."

Dean huffed. "Do we stand there slotting different coins in its mouth like it's a slot machine until something works?"

"Don't know." Sam rubbed his eyes because there really had already been too much day and not nearly enough caffeine.

"Not helpful, Sam." Dean sounded and _felt_ frustrated and Sam understood that. But there wasn't much he could do about it. If the lore wasn't clear, then they'd have to guess.

"A euro."

"What?" Sam frowned and ran a hand through his hair. He needed a shower.

"Where am I supposed to get a Euro in Kansas?" Dean looked exasperated.

"Why the _fuck_ do you want a Euro?" Definitely not enough caffeine in Sam's blood.

"Germany hasn't used the Deutsche Mark since the European Union," Dead said.

Turning to stare at his brother, Sam couldn't help the way his eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Who _are_ you?"

The glare Dean fixed on Sam was pointed. "Don't you pay attention to European history?"

"Yes. No." Sam shook his head. He chuckled. "I need more coffee. And let's go with a Deutsche Mark. I'm pretty sure that monsters don't keep up with currency exchanges."

"Bobby will have one." Dean headed off.

For a while Sam just sat there, then he headed to the kitchen in search of a drink that would keep him awake.

-=-=-=-

Dean spent the day and evening building something _very_ loudly in the garage, he was always working on something. Sam tried to work out a strategy for how to deal with the Nachzehrer.

By about one in the morning, Sam had some news and went to find Dean. He walked into the garage to find Dean wearing a harness on his shoulders with a strap that paralleled his collar bones. There was a small square, metal box on Dean's left shoulder with a glass front.

Frowning, Sam stopped just inside the doors. "You look like a ghostbuster. What the hell is that?"

Dean reached across his chest and something clicked. 

A wide beam of intensely bright light blinded Sam for a few seconds until the click sounded again.

"Shit," Sam said as he staggered back until his back hit the wall. "You could have warned me."

"Element of surprise," Dean said proudly. "No shadows. Can't touch us if we light the hell out of them."

Sam forgot his initial irritation as he was reminded of how clever his brother was when it came to inventing things. Dean could probably build a weapon out of a stick of gum, and a used coffee cup. "Cool."

"You find anything else?"

"Yeah." Sam blinked a few more times until the red dots in his eyes began to fade a little. "It also kills with sound."

"Sound?" Dean unclipped the harness and shrugged out of it.

"The lore is that these Nachzehrer things find a church, climb the tower and ring the bell." Sam wandered over to Dean's workbench and leaned his hip against it. "Anyone who hears the bell toll dies instantly."

Dean's eyes narrowed and he rolled his neck as his gaze moved slowly around the garage. Sam knew the look, it meant Dean was working something out. He loved watching his brother calculate and plan. It was the one time that Dean didn't underestimate himself… put his own needs behind those of everyone else.

"That thing was walkin' south, yeah?"

Thinking for a moment, Sam finally nodded. "Yeah, towards… Lebanon." 

"Magnus knows you and I are here."

Sam just nodded, seeing that Dean was working through everything.

"Lebanon," Dean said softly. He turned and set the harness and light on his work table and looked back over at Sam. "So – you know how you said that monsters wouldn't keep up with currency? What if they _do_ keep up? Or… what if Magnus does. The fire department, Sam. The main one has a siren for…. For tornados, and things like that. What if Magnus is controlling that thing and it's heading there?"

Cool apprehension settled down over Sam's shoulders and he took a deep breath. "That would be a damned efficient way to kill a town full of hunters. Felicia can probably hack into it and shut it down temporarily."

"There are tons of failsafes for emergency procedures. She needs to get on it and _we_ need to get there first thing tomorrow and shut that shit down," Dean said firmly. 

Sam nodded.

-=-=-=-

Sam couldn't sleep. He spent a couple of hours lying in his bed staring at the ceiling and finally gave up. He pulled on some boxers, opened his door, listened for a moment then padded down the hall to Dean's room. He didn't bother knocking, just opened the door, slipped inside and waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"I can't sleep either." Dean's voice was rough and Sam heard the sound of the covers flipping back.

As soon as he could make out the shapes of things in the room, Sam padded over and slipped into bed beside his brother. He turned onto his side so he could slip his hand over Dean's chest. He liked to feel the steady rise and fall of his brother's breathing; a solid reminder that they were _there_.

"I've been thinking," Dean said in an almost-whisper. 

"Yeah?" No surprise there. When a Winchester couldn’t sleep, it was usually because they were running over a hunt in their mind.

Sam's fingertips found the scar just south of Dean's collarbone. He traced the warm, raised flesh and settled his head more comfortably on Dean's pillow.

"I don't want you tryin' to read that thing, Sam." Dean's voice was a low, familiar rumble in his broad chest.

Sam had expected the protest. Of course, he had. He could feel the apprehension and concern radiating from his brother. "I know."

He _did_ know. He knew _exactly_ how Dean felt about Sam trying to read the Nachzehrer.

Dean shook his head slightly on the pillow. "It's just not worth it, Sam. Last time you tried to read something… dead… you were out of it for long enough to nearly die."

"I'll be fine." Apprehension was a thick fog around Dean. And there was something beneath it, something that Dean always tried to bury where it wouldn’t reach Sam.

But it did reach him.

 _Dean couldn't imagine a life without Sam._ The smallest hint of losing Sam shredded into Dean like shrapnel. He'd never say it to Sam out loud – Dean would consider that to be a burden. He was wrong about that, there were no burdens when it came to Dean.

But Dean didn't have to say it out loud, because Sam could feel the dark, sticky pain of loss that always lingered deep inside Dean. There had been _so_ much taken from Dean over the years. He was rubbed raw by grief and he held on to Sam because he believed his life depended on it. Dean wouldn't survive losing Sam… he was certain of it.

Dean didn't have to say any of it out loud. And no matter how deep he pushed his fear, it would always seep out and Sam would catch wisps of it, like the lingering scent of cigarette smoke on someone’s hair.

"Nothing will go wrong," Sam said. "You'll be right there to save my ass like you always are."

A burst of warmth from Dean washed away the fear and apprehension chasing it back to where it was usually hidden away.

"Maybe I'll let it gnaw on you a little bit _before_ I save you."

Sam snorted and shifted closer. He slid his arm across Dean's chest and he breathed in his scent. "We'll be fine."

Dean nodded. His fingers curled over Sam's wrist and his thumb rubbed back and forth over the nub of Sam's wrist bone. "I got the electrical schematics for the siren. I figured out how to cut off the power to it, the direct connection to the grid. There were some serious security protocols to evade and Felicia is still working on it. And I still have to get into the bottom of the tower to disable the physical relay to prevent the redundancy system from kicking in _after_ she does that. Gonna have to pick the lock, disable the internal control panel on the door."

A smile slid onto Sam's lips. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

Sam felt his brother's deep laugh. They both knew that Sam really enjoyed hearing his brother talk about the things he worked out. As far as Sam was concerned, there was nothing hotter than his brother explaining how things worked. 

That was a lie, the thigh holster was probably hotter.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Your thigh holster. It's stupid."

" _You're_ stupid and you _love_ my thigh holster." There was the sound of a grin in Dean's voice. "I don't have to be fucking psychic to know that."

Sam shifted to get more comfortable then threw his leg over both of Dean's and tugged the quilt higher up over them both.

"Ya comfy there, Sammy? Don't let me get in your way."

Straight up, undiluted _love_ trickled through the bond between them and Sam soaked it up willingly. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Couple hours of sleep?"

Dean nodded and turned and pressed his lips to Sam's forehead.

-=-=-=-

After that couple of hours of sleep, Sam slipped out of his brother's room and headed for a shower. He worked out the kinks in his muscles under the scalding water and then suited up. Unlike his brother, Sam had chosen a much more utilitarian approach for his gear.

He slipped on tight, charcoal hiking pants that were elastic at the ankles. He yanked his boots on and tied them up over the pant legs. His shirt was a simple black, button-down – no need for anything but comfort there. The main alterations Sam had made were to a grey vest that he shrugged onto his shoulders. He zipped it up tight and could feel the Kevlar panel across his chest. The vest was littered with pockets and a built-in holster angled down on the left front panel. He was sliding his gun into the vest when there was a knock at his door.

Dean. Yes, complete with a tight black t-shirt, chest harness for the light weapon and black pants with the fucking thigh holster. The pants were much tighter than was necessary but when Sam had pointed that out, Dean had simply said that he didn't want any extra material getting in the way.

Dean looked dangerous. And he looked hot… masculine, deadly. And all of that was stirred in with the confidence that pulsed in time with his excitement about the hunt. Overall, the feel of Dean made Sam a little weak at the knees. 

He looked down at his desk and picked up his Beretta. It couldn't hurt. Magnus could still show up in person, and he could still be taken down by a bullet… hopefully.

"I was thinkin', Sam." Dean tapped his knuckles against the door frame a couple of times. "What if you keep your distance from this thing. You can be thirty or forty feet away, yeah?"

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. He could already feel it. "Dean-"

"-then if you have to take a knee for a bit, I can stay between you and this piece of shit."

"No, Dean." Sam didn't like to deny his brother. Well, not when it came to hunting anyway. There were some things he wouldn't compromise on, and one of them was Dean's safely. "I'll be right beside you where I usually am."

"It doesn't make sense, Sam." That dark feeling was back again, the barely restrained desperation to keep Sam where he would always be safe.

"Dean." Sam tried to keep his voice steady. "I will be right with you. Just like I always am. You know that feeling you don't talk about? The way you can't let anything happen to me? And the idea that you can't… we can't be without each other?"

Dean's brow furrowed and his gaze hardened but he nodded.

Sam didn't like to pull punches like that – not on his brother – but they didn't have time to argue. "I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you because I wasn't _right fucking there_ at your side. And if I'm gonna die, I want you there… I can't imagine-" his voice broke. It wasn't just whatever was going on in his own mind, it was Dean. It was the fact that Dean knew exactly what he meant.

"It's okay, Sammy."

There'd be no more arguments from Dean, so Sam took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders to relax them. "You ready?"

"Oh, I'm ready."

"Let's get goin'."

-=-=-=-

Felicia had called in multiple fake bomb threats to some of the local business in Lebanon to spread out the small police presence in town. Once the Winchesters were almost at the Fire station, she called in a gas leak to evacuate the building and half the block. Everyone hoped the combination of the two would be enough to keep the cops off the back of hunters functioning on the _questionable_ side of the law.

By the time the Impala pulled up to park in a residential street near the temporary blockade, Sam's phone was vibrating with texts.

"What's goin' on?" Dean asked over his shoulder as he climbed out of the car.

Sam thumbed the screen on his phone to read through the texts. "The Nachzehrer has been sighted. Felicia says it's headed where you said… the siren. We need to get there now. She’s cut it off completely from what she can. It’s up to you to do the rest."

Dean slipped his Colt into his shoulder holster and adjusted the light weapon then shot Sam a look.

Sam nodded and they broke into a run towards the fire station. "It's about ten minutes out," Sam said as he kept pace with his brother.

"On foot?"

"Apparently, Nachzehrers don't drive."

"Well, I guess that's a plus." Dean jumped over a small flower bed as his gaze swept back and forth in front of them.

"D'ya have enough time to cut the siren?"

Dean shot his brother a glare. "Of course, you forget who you're workin' with?"

There was _no_ way Sam was ever likely to forget what his brother was capable of. Saying things, making all those borrowed thoughts and emotions into words kept Sam sane though. He _knew_ he trusted Dean, had absolute confidence in his skill and instinct – he just needed to talk sometimes. "No one's better than you, Dean."

The grin on Dean's face was matched by the burst of warmth Sam felt from him.

"You're only admitting that because we might be dead later."

"Don't joke about that," Sam said too sharply.

There it was instantly, that strange sensation: _Hurt. Regret. Sammy._ Dean's gaze softened for a moment then he glared at the tower ahead of them. "You know I always save your ass, Sam."

Figuring it was probably safer to focus on the task at hand, Sam smiled at Dean and lengthened his stride.

It took less than two minutes for them to reach the bottom of the siren tower. Sam could feel the adrenaline slinking into his veins as he cast his gaze around the perimeter.

Dean was already working on the metal door at the side entrance to the station.

The lock clicked open and Dean pulled the door open.

"I'll wait here," Sam said. He pulled his Beretta and nodded at his brother.

Dean returned the nod and disappeared inside, leaving a cloud of apprehension and determination in his wake.

Sam's lips twitched into a slight smile. Dean could always be counted on to work faster if he was competing with Sam or trying to stay close to him. Two opposing motivations that just somehow _worked_ in the mind of Dean Winchester.

Sam's phone vibrated again, and he pulled it out of his vest pocket. 

_**Felicia** : lost the monster. Cops eta 10 or 15 mins_

Phone back in his pocket, Sam took a few steps out from the door and looked around. There was no sign of movement. He could hear sirens in the distance and knew that they would be cutting it close. The area had been evacuated but it was still a fire station. Once the police had everything else under control, their priority would be to get it active again.

The door opened and Dean appeared and grabbed Sam's arm to yank him into motion. There was a thump from inside the tower behind them.

"It was already _in_ there," Dean growled.

"And you didn't get me?"

"I didn't really have time, Sam." Dean had run about a hundred feet from the building when he slowed to a stop.

"What…"

Dean wiped at a scratch on his face that was bleeding. "Okay, so. I got in there. That thing was on its way to the control panel." Dean adjusted the chest harness and smacked his hand down on the switch. The light came on and Dean angled it towards the door. "You see a shadow, don't step in it."

Sam didn't bother asking any questions. He flicked open the built-in knife holster on his leg and resettled his grip on his Beretta.

"Turns out, it's slow but _really_ fucking strong."

Something oily and thick, dark and disgusting nudged at Sam's mind and he closed his eyes for a moment.

"I killed the failsafe. That siren is _not_ goin' off, but Sam?"

Shaking off the unwanted assault on his senses, Sam cut his gaze across to his brother. "What?"

"It's really gross and it's _really_ pissed off.” Dean wiped sweat from his brow with his forearm and pulled the machete out of the harness on his back. "You sure you want…you ready?"

Silently Sam thanked his brother for not continuing to ask him if he was sure about reading the Nachzehrer. He wasn't sure, but he would do everything he could to help Dean. "Ready. It's – I got it a little already."

"No closer than you have to, Sam."

There was a loud clang then a crash inside the building. "I've got your back, Dean."

They both knew there wasn't time for further discussion.

Sam squared his shoulders and aimed the muzzle of the Beretta at the door in front of them.

The presence of the creature was becoming more tangible, but Sam knew he would have to be closer to get any useful information. He wasn't looking forward to it.

The door rattled then burst open and Sam felt a stab of hostility slice into him. " _Jesus_."

"Gross, right?"

Sam was happy to let Dean think it was the disgusting appearance of the creature that he was remarking on and not the strength of what it was broadcasting.

Narrowing his gaze, Sam tried to relax his natural defenses. The Nachzehrer was mildly horrifying. A walking corpse was probably the best way to describe it.

The rotting flesh was sloughing off, sliding away from the greasy layer of fat under the corpse's skin. Its face was skeletal, skin like shrink-wrapped leather contorting its face into a permanent grimace.

Its eyes settled on Sam and he shuddered as he felt the slam of knotted up emotions from it.

"Sam…" Dean stepped in front of his brother and held up the blade.

"Not close enough," Sam ground out through clenched teeth.

As the Nachzehrer stumbled closer, Sam felt slippery-fingered thoughts pushing into his mind. Pain slammed into him and he lowered his weapon unconsciously.

"Sam!"

 _Dean_.

The worry and fierce protectiveness from Dean knotted up with the vile loathing and bitterness from the creature. Sam kept part of himself anchored in the familiar warmth of Dean's mind and pushed forward to reach out to the creature.

 _Agony. Anger. Revenge._ Sam's vision swam as he struggled to fight his way into what was left of the creature's mind. It was a gnarled-up forest of indistinct, sooty emotions. The dark, thick, swarm of hatred and pain was sickening.

As the creature continued to trudge forward, Dean stepped back until he could reach out with his free hand to cup the back of Sam's neck. "About thirty feet, Sam."

Dean's grip was warm and firm, and Sam closed his eyes to concentrate.

Regret was radiating off the creature in seismic waves. Sam couldn't help flinching each time they slammed into him. His throat ached and he couldn’t swallow past the tightening of his muscles.

Anger sizzled against Sam's own thoughts, searing its brand and he staggered slightly. The heavy weight of the creature's resentment and need for revenge kept bashing into Sam.

"Twenty feet."

Dean's voice seemed like it was a hundred miles away.

Sam felt Dean check his pocket for the coin they had snagged from Bobby.

_Dean._

Sam stumbled forward feeling Dean go with him. He had to get closer, he had to read the fucking thing before he drowned in all the foul, thorny, shit that was clawing its way into his mind.

Dean's hand disappeared and Sam forced his eyes open when he heard his brother grunt with exertion.

Dean had hold of his silver machete in one hand, the other arm was wrapped around the creature's head.

The Nachzehrer's mouth was open in a silent howl, its face contorted into what Sam could feel was an unadulterated rage. Its tongue clacked back and forth in its tight, dry lips as Dean wrestled with it.

"Sam!" Dean's gaze found his brother's as he tried to keep his face away from the creature's decaying cheek.

 _Anger. Hurt. Remorse. Fear._ There were _so_ many different sensations in a fog around Sam's mind that he couldn’t pull one out to find a thread that would lead to the creature's death.

When Sam heard his brother let out a growl as he struggled against the Nachzehrer's strength, he stepped forward to help. Only, he didn't.

The weight of all the bitter, darkness from the creature's mind was swallowing Sam down. His knees buckled and the ground came up to meet his knees.

The shock of pain flared bright, white behind Sam's eyes and it was shoved aside by all too familiar fear-tinged, anger from Dean.

He focussed on _Dean_ and the _Sam. Brother. Love. Protect. Fear_ mess that curled around Sam and anchored him there as the storm of the creature tore into him.

There was something on the fringes, something _not-Dean_ , not the Nachzehrer and Sam felt cold fingers of fear trail down his spine. _Magnus._

So many things happened at once that Sam wasn't even sure what was real and what was a thought splashing into the soup left in his brain.

The Nachzehrer flipped Dean sideways but he twisted in the air to land like a cat. He crab-walked around the body as he yanked the coin out of his pocket.

Sam summoned all his remaining strength and flung himself forward to pin one of the creature's flailing arms beneath his body.

The Nachzehrer stilled, Dean let out a sigh, and Sam's mind sank into the creature's. The coin was in place.

"I need to know, Sammy." Dean's machete was poised above the creature, halfway between its heart and its throat.

Sam opened his mouth to warn his brother that Magnus was there… somewhere… too close but he spiraled down into the darkness of the creature.

There was sorrow and a kind of despair that Sam couldn't remember ever having felt. 

_Depression. Despair. Lost. Nothing. Loss. Nothing. Loss. End._ The swirl of it sucked Sam deeper and deeper, he lost his slippery grasp on Dean at the same time as he felt the sharp cold of a blade pressed against his throat.

-=-=-=-

Sam surfaced slowly. He could feel the sucking lure of the creature's darkness all around him, but his lifeline was back.

 _Dean. Love. Sam. Worry. Fear. Anger._ Everything was _Dean._

When Sam's lashes finally fluttered open, he barely had the strength to pull in a breath of air. Something sharp and cold bit at his throat. Right, Magnus.

Another frantic burst of emotion from Dean was a twist of relief and fear. Sam's gaze found his brother's and he felt the way both of their hearts began to beat slower, steadier.

Sam's arms were dead weights at his sides, and he was struggling to pull each breath past the pressure of the knife.

Dean's gaze narrowed and focused above Sam's head. The creature's twig-like fingers were beginning to twitch next to Dean's knee. "Magnus, let him go."

The blade pressed harder against Sam's throat and he felt a warm trickled slide down his skin and disappear beneath his shirt.

Magnus' dark laughter vibrated against Sam's back. "So predictable, Dean. And here we are again. You with your silly hunter ideals and me about to kill the only person you actually love.”

Blocking out the evil pulsing out of Magnus, Sam focussed on his brother. He let that fierce protectiveness coil up inside of him and keep his heartbeat steady.

The creature, the man had killed himself, Sam was certain of it and Dean needed to know that.

"Fuck you, Magnus," Dean growled. His grip on the machete was so tight his knuckles were white, but the blade didn't waver. "Let Sam go so I can kill _this_ thing and then you."

Laughter again at Sam's back and he felt bile trying to claw its way up his throat.

"I'm going to slice your brother's throat wide open, Dean. You really think you can get here fast enough to stop me.?"

The solid press of Dean's protectiveness wavered momentarily then pulsed back at Sam.

Sam managed to twitch his fingers, then move his leg before Magnus pressed the blade deeper into his flesh.

"Stay _right_ where you are, Sam," Magnus said darkly. "We're almost done here."

Sam's hands flailed into his lap as the strength ebbed back into his muscles.

"See, Dean? He's weak as a kitten. Almost doesn't seem sporting, does it?" Magnus said almost joyfully.

"You foul fucker," Dean said through clenched teeth. "I'm gonna tear you limb from limb."

"No, you're not, Dean."

Sam moved as carefully as he could and dragged the tip of his left thumb across the sensitive underside of his wrist. Time had slowed to a crawl in Sam's mind, his thoughts bogged down in the quagmire of despair emanating from the Nachzehrer. It was murky and thick, consuming the warmth and longing that was still seeping from every part of Dean.

Sam moved his thumb across his own wrist again and felt the undeniable flood of hope from his brother. Dean had seen it. He _knew_ how to kill the monster.

Magnus shifted against Sam's back, his free hand stroking through Sam's hair. "Last chance, Dean. You let my pretty little monster go and I'll… well…" His fingers stroked Sam's hair almost seductively. 

Sam's stomach twisted itself into painful knots as Dean's anger seared into him. But there was something else beneath Dean's overwhelming desire to kill Magnus, there was something focused there. Dean's rapid-fire thoughts were calculating.

It was complex, the way Dean's power over logic and puzzles worked. Sam couldn't understand it, but he could always _feel_ when it was happening.

"I think I'll kill Sam anyway," Magnus said against Sam's ear. "And, I'm going to make you watch me."

"I'm going to put this thing out of its misery. And then I'm going to kill you."

"So much bluster, Dean," Magnus said.

Sam felt another burst of wretched confidence from Magnus as he began to speak. "Mentem tuam ac voluntatem…"

It was the spell that had controlled Dean's mind in the past. The words were clattering into Sam's mind as he realized what he was hearing. He focused his mind, pulled together all the strength he could and reached towards Magnus' insanity. He poked, prodded, pulled and Magnus groaned and went silent. It was like trying to hold onto the ocean.

The rapid-fire calculations in Dean's mind screeched to a halt and then one side of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated on Dean. When he opened them again, he stared straight into his brother's eyes. 

_Now._

Dean's machete snapped down, burying the blade in the creature's chest. The thing's _release_ punched into Sam's chest but he held still. He held still because Dean's other hand had already freed his colt from the shoulder holster. In one fluid movement, grace provided by the calculations in his mind, Dean fired off a shot that clinked into the handle of Magnus' knife, levering the blade away from Sam's throat at the same moment he fired off a second shot.

The creature's relief was dribbling away to nothing as angry, pain exploded from Magnus. Sam let out a yell as he fell out of Magnus' arms. As death knocked into Magnus it was like a fist closing in on his mind and squeezing the life out of it. 

Then Sam was landing against Dean's chest rather the hard concrete he expected to hit. All the pain and hurt was buffered away by the familiar _brother, mine, safe._

Sam's world went dark.

-=-=-=-

Little thoughts nibbled at the fringes of Sam's mind. A nip of worry. The gruff rumble of frustration.

_Bobby._

_Dean. Dean. Dean._

Very slowly, plodding, Sam made his way back to awake. Of course, the first pair of eyes he saw were green under long, dark lashes.

"Sammy."

"Hey." There was a lot of relief raining down on Sam, but it was cool and refreshing because it was _Dean_.

Sam tentatively clenched his hands into fists then unfurled them. So far so good. He pushed himself up and leaned back against the headboard.

Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked a bit tired, but he looked basically unscathed. There were some scratches on his face that Sam hadn't seen before and one of his eyes was black.

"How long was I out?"

"'Bout twelve hours," came Bobby's gruff rumble from near the door. He pushed off the doorframe and wandered over to look down at Sam. "This one wouldn't stop starin' at ya, tryin' to intimidate you into wakin' up, I figure."

Sam smiled slightly and stretched his arms out in front of him. He felt like he'd been awake for days, _and_ run over a few times. "You good, Dean?"

Nodding, Dean pulled his leg up onto the bed and patted Sam's thigh. "'Course, aren't I always?"

Not always, but Sam didn't have the energy or the desire to disagree. "And, Magnus?"

"Dead," Dean said flatly.

There was a waver of the steady flow of feelings from Dean. Sam knew it well. _Needing_ to end something didn't make killing someone any easier. "And the Nachzehrer?"

Bobby sniffed and scratched at his beard. "Dylan Wakeshore. Suffered from depression his whole life. He's dead … again."

"Felicia I.D.d him," Dean added. "We sent a couple of folks to plant him again. The family will never know."

"Good," Sam nodded. It would be a long time before he lost sight of the dark pit that the man had inhabited. Some things took longer to shake off than others. Sam looked down and realized that Dean's hand was still settled on his thigh, warm and heavy and… probably shouldn’t be there with Bobby in the room.

"I've got shit to do," Bobby murmured. He reached out and squeezed Sam's shoulder. "When you're feelin' better, we'll talk. Love Ya."

As Bobby ambled towards the door, everything that radiated off of him was … strange. It was a mixture of caring, knowing and awkwardness. "Okay, Bobby."

The door clicked shut behind Bobby and Sam frowned at Dean. Dean was a little defiant, a little worried: a strange mix of things that left Sam with more questions than answers. "What's … going on?"

Licking his lips, Dean cast his gaze down at the floor for a few moments. "I was worried."

"And?" The haze of Dean around Sam settled into resignation, but there was something lighter woven throughout it. Sam was too tired to try and work it all out, pick the seams apart to find out what was going on. "What's up, Dean?"

Dean chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments. "I brought you back here. I wouldn't leave you. Bobby yelled. I yelled back. I said … things."

_Bobby knows._

"You _told_ him about _us_?" Sam didn't mean to sound as shocked as he did, but they'd always been pretty clear that _them_ was something better left unspoken.

"I didn't have to," Dean said quickly. "He's like some fuckin' weird Jedi or something."

Dean didn't _feel_ worried about Bobby. Bobby hadn't felt anything negative about the two of them. Huh. "He's okay with it."

Dean shrugged as though it didn't matter but Sam could feel the _family_ all wrapped up in love and protectiveness. "He said he's seen some fucked up things, and he's seen some things that are wrong. He says we're neither of those."

Sam reached up and pushed a hand through his hair. "Wow. That was unexpected."

"It came up. It happened." Dean shifted, looking a little like he thought he was going to get shit from his brother. "He's okay. He's _okay_ with it."

Sam let the corner of his mouth turn up into a slight smile.

"You probably shouldn't pass out and make me worry so much that I just get … crazy and, well. Yeah."

"I probably shouldn't." The brief burst of worry from Dean was difficult to miss. Sam slid his hand over his brother's where the fingers had dug into his thigh.

"How _are_ you, Sam?"

"I'm okay," Sam said truthfully. He would be one hundred percent okay after sleeping for a few months, at least, that's what it felt like. "I think it was athe combination of things."

"Of what things?" Dean shifted closer.

"Reading that poor guy. It was … _dark_. Never felt anything like that before and I don't want to do it again." The bottomless pit that had opened up under Sam while he was deep in the man's thoughts was terrifying.

"The cCombination? What else?" Dean's brow was furrowed, his eyes concerned.

"I was trying to get into Magnus' thoughts. Distract him from you. It was … it was draining."

Sam didn't want to fully explore what he'd been capable of, nor did he ever want to do it again. All that mattered was that it had worked. He'd bought Dean enough time to do his thing.

"Don't do it again," Dean said flatly.

"Dean-"

"No. Not that." Steadfast, loyal, loving … that was Dean.

Sam nodded. No point in discussing something he hoped would never come up again. If it _did_ , Sam would do the same thing. Dean knew that.

To change the subject, Sam reached up and touched the green edges of the bruise surrounding Dean's left eye. "That looks like it must have hurt."

"Elbow in the eye. Don't recommend it. 'Specially when it's done by a guy whose skin is fallin' off." Dean gave an exaggerated shudder.

Sam smiled and slid his hand along Dean's cheek and over his hair. The way Dean leaned into the touch settled Sam's heart a bit.

"I also I threw a book at D.J.," Dean admitted sheepishly.

Sam chuckled.

-=-=-=-

Sam was sitting in the middle of his bed, one hand planted behind him for support. Dean was on his lap, facing him, one arm circled around Sam's neck the other hand moving over Sam's ribs, his back, his waist.

 _Dean_. 

Dean was all _desire_. It was _love_ and _want_. There was _need_ and _relief_. All of it - everything Sam felt and everything he absorbed from Dean, swirled around inside of him.

His cock buried in Dean's ass, Sam angled his hips up again and again. Each thrust made his balls ache and the quiet noises he forced from Dean's lips made his spine tingle. He tucked his free hand over the globe of Dean's ass and urged him to move faster, however, he wanted.

Dean didn't have to be encouraged really. He loved the feel of Sam's cock filling him, stretching him uncomfortably, pressing into the place in him that sent shockwaves of pleasure pulsing through him.

Sam _felt_ it all. His palms glided over Dean's sweat-slick back, nails marking the skin. Heat was growing inside him. His mouth found Dean's in a desperately, messy kiss. Sam let out the moan that was clawing its way up his throat and was rewarded by Dean throwing his head back as he continued to rock on his lap.

 _God_ he loved Dean. He _wanted_ him, _needed_ him. He reached up and gripped the nape of his brother's neck as he thrust up forcefully.

 _Longing_ and _desire_ crashed over Sam and he let himself sink down in it. Fuck, he'd live there if he could. He clung to Dean's back, gripping his skin, digging his nails in as their bodies moved together. It was slick, hot, skin rubbing against skin and _God_ … Sam could totally fucking drown in the feelings that were pouring out of his brother.

They moved faster, hips pushing forward, mouths constantly finding their way back together. Hand over hand, Sam gripped Dean, pulling him as close as he could, keeping him there as they both slid towards their climaxes. _God_ , even with Dean inside his head, Sam couldn't get enough of his brother, couldn't get him close enough. 

Dean's body stiffened, his hands bruising Sam's shoulders. He let his head fall back as his body worked Sam's cock. Finally, he sucked in a deep breath through swollen lips and moaned it back out a few moments later. 

The whiplash of Dean's orgasm made Sam's body hurtle into his own release. Still clawing his brother's body closer, Sam came with such force that his vision faded. He mouthed the sweaty peak of Dean's shoulder as both of their bodies trembled and throbbed.

The sticky, wet heat of Dean's come was all over Sam's belly and chest. He pulled his hand forward to run his fingers through it before grabbing Dean's hip again. Dean shuddered in the circle of his brother's arms and a burst of _love, brother, always_ made Sam's sore lips twitch into a smile.

"Me too," Sam whispered against Dean's flesh.


End file.
